


On The Eve

by curvasud



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curvasud/pseuds/curvasud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow's the World Cup Final and Robin just wants to sleep, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cannonsburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannonsburn/gifts).



Robin frowned. It was half-ten and he was just about to turn off the lights. He hadn't ordered room service and he was certain Stekelenburg, who had left to do some crazy pre-match night ritual with van der Wiel, hadn't either.

He opened the door to find a man wearing a black ski mask and carrying some sort of weapon in his left hand. Perhaps the shock of it stunned the Self-Preservation Department of his brain from sending alarm signals to the rest of his body, but before Robin could do anything other than register that the weapon was a _vuvuzela_ ( _so what the hell is going—_ ) the man had barrelled Robin back into the room and clapped a gloved hand over his mouth. He kicked the door shut behind them and managed to bully Robin against the wall despite being several inches shorter than the tall Dutchman.

"Don't scream," the man instructed, pressing the narrow end of the _vuvuzela_ against Robin's chest. His voice seemed unnaturally deep, and Robin thought he might have heard it before. "I'm going to let go and I need you to stay quiet. Can you do that for me?"

Robin jerked his head twice, quick and sharp.

The man relieved the pressure against Robin's mouth, but barely a second had passed before he recaptured it—this time with his lips. They were soft and warm and sly and demanding and Robin would recognise _them_ anywhere, anytime. He shoved his assailant away.

" _Cesc!_ "

Cesc pulled off the mask and gloves, dropped his weapon on the nightstand, and laughed hysterically into his fist while Robin fumed a bit and went to lock the door. By the time he turned back, Cesc had started to sober up and was grinning up at Robin, looking not at all apologetic.

"What are you doing here?" Robin complained. "Looking like that? In my room? What if my teammates see you? Did anyone see you? They'll think I'm fraternising with the enemy! How did you get in anyway? What are you—I don't even—what's that stupid horn for?"

Cesc smoothed his hands down Robin's shoulders, tense and drawn, and steered them toward the nearest bed. He pushed Robin down and climbed on his lap and made soft cooing noises against a reddened ear while rubbing those shoulders.

"There, there," he said, "calm down. Relax. I'm here to make all your dreams come true tonight, baby."

Robin's shoulders were dropping, melting under Cesc's gentle massage, but he wasn't stupid.

"I'm not stupid," Robin said. "My _dream_ is to win the World Cup tomorrow, and so is yours, and—" It was sudden—as if all the departments in his brain decided to work together to fight against the dark force of Cesc's magic hands by pinging one clear, loud idea to him: "You're trying to sabotage me!" Robin's own hands shot up to grip Cesc's wrists, pulling them off his shoulders, though he couldn't bring himself to also remove the warm body from his lap. Instead, he drew the trapped wrists around to the small of Cesc's back and pinned them there.

Cesc shrugged, smiling rather innocently, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I'm not denying it," he said, happy to keep his wrists restrained. "Are we going to have bondage fun then?"

"Cesc!" Robin scolded again, flushing. He let go of Cesc's wrists and moved his hands to palm the Spaniard's hips. "We're not—we can't—"

"Sure we can," said Cesc, using one of his newly-freed hands to stroke Robin's jaw. The other escaped down to the waistband of Robin's pyjamas. "Trust me, I've got it all sorted out."

"My roommate—Maarten—he'll be back any minute now..."

"Done." Cesc looked smug as he teased the elastic band of Robin's bottoms. "I ran into Skeletonburger on my way here and bribed him into staying away for the night."

"No!" Robin protested. "How? He wouldn't—"

"He would," Cesc confirmed. "Told him that I have connections, you know, being skipper at Arsenal. Also told him that if _Fabiański_ is looking to get the number one shirt...well, he got the idea."

"You can't do that!" Robin looked scandalised, and squirmed under the heat of Cesc's hand, which was creeping closer and closer to That Thing Between a Rock and a Hard Place.

Cesc winked and pressed a kiss on the corner of Robin's mouth. "No," he murmured, "I cannot. But he doesn't know that. Besides," he added, sitting up a little straighter and, in the process, rubbing his arse against Robin's stiffy, "he thinks I'm only _talking_ to you, having a Gunners' heart-to-heart before the match that could change everything. He's so _cute_."

Robin tried to glare at Cesc. "Yes, unlike you. Fine, so you managed to infiltrate our hotel, bypass the securities and my teammates. What about things on your end? Won't del Bosque notice you've gone?"

"Sergio's got it covered. In fact, it was his idea that I 'take one for the team.' Not that I mind." Cesc smiled sweetly as he finally gripped Robin's cock in one hand and began to stroke it.

"Oh, god," Robin moaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe you're here, and doing this, and I can't believe I'm not having you arrested for molestation. I can't believe you agreed to—to sabotage me—to—"

"—ride you into exhaustion and incompetence?"

" _Oh my god_."

Cesc chuckled and leaned down to drape his body over Robin's, his hand working steadily. He sucked several kisses onto Robin's neck and even licked a collarbone or two.

"You're so silly," he said fondly, and slid his other hand under Robin's shirt to pinch a nipple. He was pleased to hear Robin's indignant yelp. " _I_ can't believe you're talking so much."

"I'm going to die," whined Robin, bucking into Cesc's hold. "I'm going to wake up tomorrow and _die_ and it'll be all your fault. And Spain won't win either," he said, feeling vindictive, "because my teammates _will_ find out and _they will kill you too_. And Ramos, apparently."

Cesc only laughed again, and leaned over to the nightstand to find some lotion or massage oil. That was when the _vuvuzela_ caught his eye and he stopped fondling Robin. The much-suffered Dutchman lifted his arm and peered over as well. He nudged Cesc's thigh.

"Why _did_ you bring that?"

"Well," said Cesc, "see, my plan is so well-thought out that I also factored in your revenge. I thought maybe you could find a _really_ improper use for it."


End file.
